


Gallons Of The Stuff

by MCRmyGeneral



Series: Blood [1]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Blood, Blood Kink, Blood trigger.... I guess, Bloodplay, Hand Kink, Injury, M/M, Minor Injuries, Originally Posted Elsewhere, Protective Ray, Ray Toro is pretty much God, Unrequited Love, kinda sorta based on myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-04-26 05:04:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 19,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4991296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MCRmyGeneral/pseuds/MCRmyGeneral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank has been amused by blood for as long as he can remember. When he was a child, it was a simple fascination; the way it felt on his hands, the way it looked dripping to the floor, the way it smelled. But as he grew older, that simple fascination morphed into a daring lust. Blood no longer amused him, now it turned him on.</p><p>Frank has never intentionally hurt someone just to see their blood. He just takes what he can get whenever an accident happens. But when Mikey is hurt bad, Frank discovers how hard it is to keep his hands, and thoughts, to himself.</p><p>He loves Mikey, he has for a long time. But now, he finds his silence so much harder to keep. He has two choices: either tell Mikey how he feels, about him and his blood, and risk scaring him away, or keep quiet, and never let the man know how much he means to him. Whatever he chooses, he knows that someone will get hurt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. That Made It So Hard

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on my Mibba under the same title and same username. Title is from Blood by My Chemical Romance.

" _Frank!_ " Mikey yelled, popping his head past the curtain to Frank's casket-sized bunk.

Frank jumped; his legs separating from where he had them crossed at the ankles, his head slamming against the wall, his hand flying to his chest, as if it was enough to calm his erratic heart, all the while cursing Mikey for barging in. He had just got his position perfect. 

But Mikey looked at him in apology, his eyes instinctively falling into their 'puppy dog' state, the one that had spared him from countless groundings as a kid. His kohl-smudged hazel rim shimmered with sincere apology. Frank figured it was all he was gonna get from the older man, and he took it gladly. Mikey was a master at speaking with his eyes. His deep, blazing, sparkly eyes. Frank couldn't stay mad at that. 

He rubbed the back of his head, exaggerating slightly, milking his 'injury'. 

"Fuck, Mikes. That hurt! My head's still a little sore from last week."

Last week, when the stupid, self-destructive, masochistic side of Frank decided to try to do a guitar spin while balancing (barely) on Bob's bass drum. He fell, pulled Bob's hi-hat to the floor with him, and gave himself a concussion. But hey, he managed to pull the spin off. He thinks. 

Mikey slipped his slender arm into Frank's bunk, caressing his scalp with calloused, yet soft fingers. Frank's head didn't actually hurt anymore, but he was trying to make Mikey feel guilty, and _fuck_ \- his fingers felt good. 

Frank let his eyes slip closed, remembering to bite his tongue to prevent a moan from leaking from between his lips. He wasn't sure he completely succeeded, but Mikey's fingers didn't stop. Frank imagined them rubbing lower, over the bomb on his chest, skimming his guns, nails lightly tracing the "Search and destroy" circling his waist, and his eyes popped open, determined to put that off-limits baby to bed immediately. Think platonic thoughts, he told himself. He moved his head away from Mikey's fingers, and Mikey took the hint, dropping his arm. He smiled at Frank.

"You okay?"

Frank was half-tempted to respond with, "I'm no-ot oh-kay!" but he knew the look Mikey would give him, so he just nodded. 

"Yeah, thanks. You got a future in skull massages. Y'know, if MCR ever falls through." Mikey smiled, even giggled a little, and Frank felt the lightheadedness start to creep through his system, the one that always settled in when he pleased Mikey in some way: letting him win at Super Mario Brothers, helping him figure out a really great bass line, straightening that lock of hair in the back that even Mikey's long arms can't reach, or simply drawing a giggle from, or putting a smile on, his lips. 

"I'll keep my eyes open the next time I'm flipping through the classifieds. Anyway, wanna come join our movie marathon in the lounge? Ray found pour-over butter popcorn, and we got Dawn of The Dead!" Mikey's eyes lit up, like a kid on Christmas. So naturally, Frank had to dim them a little, just for fun.

"The 2004 version?"

Mikey gasped, mouth a small 'O' and he clutched his hand to his chest, like even the thought that he'd spend any precious Mikeyfuckinway time on that remake repulsed him. 

"What kind of girl do you think I am, Mr. Iero? I _have_ morals. Now, if you're not joining us," Mikey made it a question, and Frank shook his head, "I bid you adieu as I retreat to the sitting room to partake in some good, old-fashioned cannibalism. Good day," he said, haughtily sticking his nose in the air and exiting the vicinity of Frank's bunk. 

Frank laughed internally at how easily Mikey can switch genders in his head, then out loud when he noticed how weird that sentence was.

Then he used his photographic memory (which is really useful when you're a horny teenager who is way too acquainted with his right hand) to recall the image of Mikey, his nose in the air, his neck and jaw stretched, the slight blue of his jugular vein contrasting with his alabaster skin. He remembered seeing a slight throb beneath the surface, a small pulse, a beat. _The_ beat. The beat that pushed it through Mikey. Pushed the salty, coppery liquid heat through every single vein and artery in Mikey's tall, thin body. The beat that kept him alive for one more day. He remembered seeing the soft rush of the –he shuddered with arousal at the thought– _blood_ that filled Mikey. The blood that Frank wanted more than anything to see, to smell. Mikey's blood that Frank wanted to taste.


	2. Chapter 2

Frank got one –well, two– of his wishes only a few days later when he stepped onto the bus to see Mikey shirtless, face down on the couch with his arms crossed above him, forehead resting on them, blood steadily oozing from a large gash across his shoulder blades.

The bus was small, and the unmistakable rust smell of fresh blood mixed with the smell of rain and earthworms outside, creating a one-of-a-kind _Au de Michael Way_ (if that makes any sense). It wasn't unpleasant.

Gerard was squeezed on the couch beside him, wetting a rag with hydrogen peroxide, patting it against the wound, then repeating. The blood flowed in small streams down Mikey's shoulders, around his side, and down his chest, eventually meeting with the growing spot of red on the upholstery. Ray stood on the other side of the small bus, spouting apologies. Frank heard it only as a roaring, because he was transfixed on a rather plump drop of blood.

He watched it bloom up on the edge of the cut, finally reaching its volume point, and start its slide down Mikey's shoulder. It went slowly, and Frank was grateful, because he was momentarily lost in the deep crimson. He watched it in a trance, just looking at the way it slid down Mikey's chest, down to his nipple, and dripped to the couch. Frank moaned a little when it sunk into the fabric, and that's when everyone finally noticed him.

Gerard and Ray simply turned their heads, but Mikey had to twist his whole torso, which only made the blood flow faster.

"Hey, Frank. Frank? Frank!" Someone was yelling to get his attention, but he still stared at Mikey, who was always unbearably beautiful, but when he was covered in blood, he was just... angelic (which, considering the whole 'covered in blood' thing, doesn't seem like a fitting adjective).

Mikey noticed that Frank was staring. "Yeah, pretty gruesome, right?"

Frank shook his head, finally making eye contact with the younger Way. "What the hell did you do, stupid?" He went from having the dirtiest thoughts and mental pictures running through his mind to normal in no time. Nobody noticed that his voice is rough with sex, probably because they were too busy worrying about Mikey. And if anybody did notice, he's glad that they didn't mention it.

Mikey smirked. "Never underestimate the power of my stupidity. It's dangerous."

Frank nodded. "If we could bottle the luck of Michael James Way, imagine the horror and destruction we could cause." Everybody laughed, except for Mikey; He shivered when Frank spoke his full name.

"So, what actually happened?" Frank asked, moving to sit down at Mikey's feet. Mikey lifted them, then set them back down on Frank's lap.

"Mikey, lay back down so I can finish cleaning this," Gerard ordered. "A tech was changing Ray's strings. Mikey, will you _please_ lay back down. The guy moved to cut some extra off the high 'E', and the string scratched across Mikey's back– Michael James Way, I swear on the name of all that is holy, if you do not lay back down-" Gerard didn't finish. He thought he was intimidating enough to not have to, but Mikey just smirked at him, defiance glimmering in his eyes.

Mikey could be reasoned with, and would usually do whatever you asked of him if you asked nicely, but he hated being threatened, even if it was just Gerard playing the 'Tough Older Brother.'

Frank set his hand on the small of Mikey's back, slipping it higher as he more or less pushed him gently back down so Gerard could finish the disinfecting. Mikey gladly submitted under Frank's touch, losing himself for a moment when he realized that Frank was touching his naked skin. He lay back down on his stomach. Frank let his hand 'accidentally' slide too far up Mikey's smooth skin, ghosting his fingers over the small gouge.

"Ow! Fuck, Frank! Watch it!" Mikey hissed.

"Sorry," Frank said, though not with an ounce of sincerity. He set his hands in his lap. Just rubbing his fingertips together, reveling in the warm slip and slide that Mikey's blood gave them. They slid against each other so easily. Frank shivered.

"Aah... Ugh... Mmh..." Frank grew wide-eyed listening to the pained moans coming from Mikey. Listening to him moan and groan, sigh and hiss at the pain, while still rubbing his fingers in Mikey's blood, it was all too much. His whole body tingled, but most of it was centered in his pants, which were steadily growing tighter. Oh, god. He was getting hard, he was so turned on by Mikey's blood. And Mikey's feet were in his lap. He was sure to feel his growing arousal. Frank stood suddenly, letting Mikey's feet fall to the floor, almost bringing the rest of Mikey with them.

"The fuck, Frank?" he questioned.

"I need a smoke. I'm gonna go bum one off Bob," He said, trying to keep his erection and his blood covered hand concealed. He headed for the door, opening it with his clean hand. He walked straight past the techs, Brian, and Bob on his way to the green room bathroom, the only private bathroom in the venue.

He pushed the door closed, and sank to the floor, rubbing his bloody fingertips together again, then brought his index finger to his mouth, pausing. The smell was so much more concentrated now. His tongue darted out to taste the red. Salt, rust, a little bit of peroxide, but he could still taste Mikey. It tasted the way Mikey smelled. He figured this was as close as he'd ever get to tasting Mikey, so he licked every drop of blood off his hand, finger by finger.

He groaned at the taste, and at the fact that this was disgusting, perverted, depraved, and creepy. Mikey was his best friend. That he was in love with, but his best friend nonetheless. It wasn't normal to want to see his blood, to get sexual excitement from it. It wasn't normal to love the taste of it. But he couldn't help it. He knew this was weird, but he didn't care what anyone else thought, especially since he'd make certain that nobody else would ever know.

He wasn't hurting Mikey just to see his blood, so it was harmless.

At least, that's what he told himself as the hand not being sucked on moved to rub against the hot bulge in his pants.

He summoned back the image of that blood drop sliding down Mikey's chest, still palming at his hard dick. He moaned out loud, replaying it in his head like an animated GIF. And he came hard with a guttural cry, sitting on the dirty floor, thinking of his best friend, whose blood was still heavy on his tongue.


	3. Chapter 3

Frank had a thing for blood for as long as he can remember. Even being a child, he had a fascination with it.

When he was 8, he sliced his arm open while trying to learn to juggle (in retrospect, he should have started with baseballs or bean bags, instead of the knives). He thought he was fine for that second before anything happened, because there was just a line marking his skin. Then the blood started pulsing out of it. He waited a moment before yelling to his mother. Just standing in the kitchen, watching the droplets splash against the white linoleum. It felt good. It was warm.

His mother sat him on the sink as she wrapped his arm in gauze. He was sad, upset that he couldn't see any more blood. But he smiled again when a small splotch of red seeped through the wrappings.

When he was 14, his mother cut her finger while chopping vegetables. She showed him, laughing.

"Look what my dumb ass did!" Frank just looked at the little bead on his mother's fingertip. "Don't worry, nothing got in the food."

Frank had grabbed her finger, squeezing it, trying to coax more blood out.

"What the hell are you doing, ya weirdo?" she laughed.

Frank shook his head. "Nothing. Sorry." He smiled at her, then ran before she could question him further.

A few weeks after that, he found out that if he crossed his feet at the ankles in a certain way, he could feel the pulse of blood in the large vein near the bone. He'd lie in bed, sometimes spending up to an hour repositioning himself to find that sweet spot. It relaxed him, the repetition of the _thud... thud... thud..._ His blood had a certain rhythm. He'd always thought that was the reason why he'd been drawn to rhythm guitar, instead of working lead.

His mother was fit, in shape and beautiful, but she had prominent veins. They stood out against her skin. Even when he was as young as 4 or 5, he'd loved lightly pressing two fingers against the veins in her wrists and ankles, feeling the pulsating. His mother's blood moved to a different beat than his did. If he pushed the first finger down hard enough, there would be no beat underneath the second finger. He'd stop the flow.

When he was 16, he'd had a really large scab on the back of his hand. He forgot what exactly he was doing, but somehow he'd managed to scratch the entire thing off in one swift movement. He didn't even realize he was bleeding until he felt it. A sudden warmth spreading in a line down his hand. He could feel it, the blood dripping down his skin. It had a specific texture, thicker than the fast movement of dripping water. No, it slid slowly, taking the time to plaster the small hairs on his hand down. He made no attempt to staunch the flow, letting it go and go, until it had dried and scabbed over again.

The first time blood had ever turned him was, coincidentally, the same time he realized he was gay.

He was 18, still living at home. Upstairs in his bedroom at ass o'clock in the morning, he was supposed to be sleeping, but he had woken from a vivid dream panting, with sweat on his face and a rather large and uncomfortable erection. He remembered snippets of the dream, mainly that there were no women, and he preferred it that way.

He lifted his hips to slip his boxers down his thighs, because really? How could anyone just go back to sleep without dealing with that?

The first touch of his warm hand on his even warmer cock and he moaned. _Loudly._ He slapped his free hand down over his mouth, really not wanting to get caught, literally, with his pants down. He bit into his lip, and that helped, because even though he was afraid of his mother walking in at any moment, his right hand hadn't stopped moving on his dick. He closed his eyes and bit down harder, because fuck– he was so close already. He moaned again and bit down harder still, knowing the instant he did that he had done so too hard.

There was a little pain, but mostly there was salt, and the taste of blood. Surprisingly, his hand didn't slow its movements, but sped up. He had only gotten harder when he started bleeding, and when he swiped his lip over the small cut, he couldn't hold back his arousal, and finally climaxed, sucking as much blood from the small wound as he could. He kept sucking, riding out the aftershocks of his orgasm, until he was empty (in two places), then faced the wall, settling back into a deep slumber.


	4. Chapter 4

They had to cancel a couple shows because of Mikey's injury. He couldn't play because his strap would dig into the cut. Everyone teased him about it, saying things like, " _One tiny little cut and you can't play_ "" or, " _He did it on purpose cause he's just lazy_ ," or Gerard's personal favorite, simply calling him a ' _Diva_ ' every time he walked past. Mikey would frown, and everyone would laugh, but not Frank. Mikey was the sweetest kid on earth, and Frank knew that he hated disappointing his fans. He knew the feeling all too well, what with how often he injured himself. It kinda pissed him off that everyone was doing their best to make the kid feel like shit. For fuck's sake, he couldn't even get out of his bunk by himself for at least a week. 

When they finally got a doctor to check him out, boy, were they in trouble. Apparently Mikey had needed stitches, but it had been so long before someone with a medical degree could get to him that it had started healing by itself. 

Gerard fell into the role of Professional Mikey Caretaker: helping him get in and out of his bunk, helping him change because he could only stretch his arms so far, cleaning the cut and changing bandages daily. Which everyone sort of expected, because he was Mikey's older brother. Professional Mikey Caretaker kinda goes hand-in-hand with Mikey's Older Brother. 

This was why Frank was so shocked to climb almost on top of Mikey when he crawled into his bunk a few days later.

"Jesus, Mikey! Scare me half to death!" he yelled, half of his body lying down in the bunk, the other half trying to keep him balanced on the outside.

Mikey flashed his eye-pology, and Frank's lips turned a little in a smile. 

"Why are you in _my_ bunk?"

Mikey's cheeks flushed a little, and Frank couldn't help but notice how overwhelmingly adorable he was when he did that. 

"Sorry. Gee and Bob were going for coffee, and Ray's.... somewhere. I wanted to sleep, and your bunk is easier to get into since it's lower to the floor." 

Frank gave him a face. 

"I didn't mean it as a short joke, honest! I just-" he sighed, "I'm sorry. I'll go." 

He moved to crawl out of the bunk, but Frank just pushed him back in. 

"Stay, ya cripple. I'll just take yours." 

He stood up, but Mikey called his name. He popped his head back behind the curtain, gasping because his face was so close to Mikey's, he could kiss him without moving an inch. He swallowed hard. 

"Yeah, Mikes?"

"I-I feel bad, you know, kicking you out of your bed. You, uh, can, you know..." he trailed off, breaking eye contact.

"What?"

" _Stay_." He said it almost as a command, his eyes locking again with Frank's, and burning. Frank noticed that they were full of want, like that simple word was so much more to him.

"Okay," he whispered. 

Mikey moved as close to the wall as he could comfortably, and Frank settled in beside him. It was awkward for a moment, Frank lying on his back and Mikey on his side, looking at him.

Then Mikey threw all caution to the wind. He laid his head on Frank's chest, twining their legs together. Frank draped his left arm across Mikey's shoulders, careful not to press down on the gash, and reached up to run his fingers through Mikey's hair. Mikey sighed contentedly, snuggling closer to Frank until he was practically a blanket.

"Thank you," Mikey whispered against Frank's chest.

Frank, in one of those sudden bursts of bravery that he always seems to regret later (which he got quite often), leaned down slightly to kiss the top of Mikey's head. 

"Shhhhh... Go to sleep, Mikes."

Mikey pressed a soft kiss to Frank's chest, then fell asleep. 

Frank was happier than he could ever remember, having Mikey so close to him, having his scent fill his nostrils. 

Mikey wasn't a particularly comfortable blanket; he was thin and bony, and his collarbone was digging into Frank's ribs something fierce, but Frank was blissed out, just laying with the man he loved. 

He kissed Mikey's head again, and just lay there, running his fingers through Mikey's unwashed hair, until the sun set and he fell into sleep too.


	5. Chapter 5

"No."

"Dude, come on! You can't honestly-"

"Fuck you! I can!"

"Brian, he'll be fine! Just give him another week!"

"No! You've already cancelled four shows. Do you have _any_ idea how many people had tickets to those shows? There were thoudsands of people dead set on seeing MCR that were disappointed because of one member!" Brian threw back at Gerard.

Mikey put his head down, frowned, and sort of whimpered. Frank slid closer to him behind the table, and set his hand on his back, rubbing softly. That sound almost broke his heart. This wasn't Mikey's fault. Why was Brian being such a dick?

"I'm sorry. I didn't do it on purpose," Mikey whispered to Frank. That was it.

"Fuck, Brian! Knock it off! Mikey didn't do anything on purpose! This is in no way his fault, and this is not what he needs right now!" Frank yelled at Brian.

"Well, I'm sorry, but this is ridiculous! We all know how deep that cut is. It could take months to heal. We can't keep canceling shows. That's unfair to the fans!"

"No, what's unfair is laying all this guilt on Mikey. You're making him think that he did something wrong!" Brian opened his mouth to rebut, but Frank wasn't done. "Shut the _fuck_ up, Brian, because that's exactly what you're doing! You may not be doing it on purpose, but that's exactly what you're doing! Mikey feels bad enough about missing shows without you being constantly in his face about it! Leave it alone."

Brian huffed. "Fine."

He turned to Gerard. "But this still needs to stop. We're done cancelling shows. We have dozens of techs that are perfectly capable of filling in on bass."

"We can't just play without Mikey," Gerard pleaded sadly.

"Fuck that shit. You have two options: either Mikey sits a few shows out so he can heal, or find a new tour manager, because this is bullshit! I'm not gonna let this happen. The fans shouldn't have to suffer because you guys can't get your shit together. You keep canceling shows, pretty soon there won't be an ' _MCRmy_ '." He stormed off the bus, slamming the door.

Gerard huffed, running after him, but it was useless. Brian had won. Everyone knew that Mikey would need a replacement sooner or later. But they were avoiding the subject. It always felt weird when someone needed a stand-in. The techs and roadies were nice and all, but they weren't family.

Mikey sniffled, and Frank looked at him. There were silent tears running down his face.

"Mikey..."

"He's right. This is my fault. So many people are let down, and it's because of me."

"No. Mikey, no. Look at me." He grabbed Mikey's face softly between his hands, and made him face him. "This is not your fault. This is nobody's fault. This was one of those incredibly inconvenient freak occurrences where you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. It'll be fine. The kids understand that you were hurt. Yeah, they're disappointed, but they'll get over it. They're just hoping you get better, and if they're not, well, they're not the kind of people I want in my fan base."

Mikey smiled. "Thanks, Frank."

Frank quivered a little when Mikey looked directly into his eyes. They were so bright, and sparkly with tears. Frank knew he shouldn't have, but Mikey was so hard to resist, and he quickly leaned in to kiss a tear sliding down Mikey's cheek. He licked his lips as Mikey stared at him in astonishment. Tastes kinda like his blood, Frank thought.

The taste of Mikey was so prominent on his tongue, and he wanted more, so without thinking, he leaned in again, but this time, to kiss Mikey's lips. They were a little chapped, but sweet and warm and overall pleasant. The taste that lingered on his lips was the same as the taste of his tears and his blood. It was... The only word to describe it was Mikey, and if Frank never got that taste out of his mouth, well, he'd be just fine with that.

The kiss was chaste, no open mouth, no tongue. But every fiber of Frank's being was still tingling with excitement. How many times has he laid in his bunk, under Mikey, imagining the feel of his lips underneath his own? And now it was happening. Frank pulled away, and opened his eyes. The second he did, his world came crashing down around him. The only thought he could form was, Shit.

Mikey was staring at him, wide-eyed, with a look of utter shock plastered across his sharp, beautiful features. Frank backed up a little.

"I–" he exhaled sharply, "I'm sorry. I just–"

"You, uh. You just–"

"Yeah. I didn't– I mean, I did, but– I, I uh..."

"Um, you..."

They just looked at each other for a moment, awkward tension electrifying the air. The bus shook a little, and Gerard hopped through the door.

"Well, we're not canceling tonight, but Dewees is gonna fill..." he trailed off, noticing Frank and Mikey staring at each other awkwardly. "Am I interrupting something?"

Mikey tore his eyes from Frank to stare at the ground. Frank took the hint, sliding out of his seat and running out the door.

Gerard knelt down beside Mikey, placing a comforting hand on his little brother's shoulder. "Mikes? You okay? What just happened?"

Mikey didn't take his eyes off the floor. He just shook his head, tears flowing even faster now than they had 5 minutes ago.


	6. Chapter 6

Frank managed to avoid everyone for the next 4 hours until it was show time. He mainly hid out with the techs, helping set up the stage. 

It was only an hour until they were set to go on, so he figured he'd be safe in the green room. He wasn't. 

Ten minutes after he sat down, Gerard walked in, muttering something along the lines of, "Fuckin' vest... People moving my shit..." and Frank could've sworn he heard something about penguins. 

Gerard turned around and saw Frank trying to make himself as small as possible (which wasn't really hard) to avoid being seen. He stopped speaking, and just looked at Frank.

"Hey," he finally spoke after a tense moment.

Frank just waved, keeping his head down. He ground the toe of his Chucks into the matted tan carpet, knowing that not even looking at Gerard was rude, but he didn't care. He was so ashamed of what he did. He couldn't care less if Gerard thought he was an asshole. 

Right now, he just wanted to melt into the floor. He was pretty sure anyone else would be able to sense that. But Gerard wasn't gonna give up so easily. 

Frank saw Gerard's sneakers walk into his view. He huffed, and looked up. It's not like he'd never looked up at Gerard while being eye-level with his crotch before. They'd done some pretty weird things on stage. But this time, Gerard wasn't panting from excitement, or belting out the lyrics to his songs. Gerard simply stared down at him, his eyes full of questions.

"Nothing," Frank answered Gerard's first unspoken question. 

"I don't know. And I _know_ he didn't tell you anything, so don't try to pull the 'I already know, so you might as well save face and tell me' spiel. And if anything did happen, it's none of your business. So you might as well leave, cause you're not getting any answers from me," he said firmly.

Gerard just sighed. "You're right. I don't know what happened, Mikey didn't say anything, and it's probably none of my business, anyway." He walked to the door, and paused. "But I do know that whatever happened really upset both of you. And knowing you, it was probably your fault."

Frank sighed in aggravation, and stood up, throwing his hands in the air. "Yes, Gee! You are completely and 100% correct! It _was_ all my fault because I'm stupid and impulsive and never think before I act and now things are weird between Mikey and me, and _thank you_ , really, _Thank you for not letting the subject drop! Thank you for picking at the open wound, because God knows that only helps the situation! What would I **ever** do without you?_ "

Gerard swallowed. Frank had never yelled at him before. At least not seriously. "You're right. I'm sorry. I'm gonna go now. We're due on stage in 45 minutes." And with that, he left. 

Frank sat back down, now feeling even worse than he had after he all but ran from Mikey. Gerard was just looking out for his little brother and his best friend. He was being nosy, but as a big brother, it was his job. Frank put his head in his hands, skimming them through his hair. 

Great, now half the band was pissed at him. He exhaled forcefully. 

This was gonna be a fun night.


	7. Chapter 7

He played hard and fast that night, putting every ounce of his body into it. He jumped around, climbed on shit, stage-gayed with Ray and even Dewees, but didn't even look at Gerard, and Gerard reciprocated. He focused every thought on the chords beneath his fingers, and not even letting Mikey and the kiss enter his brain. The crowd was a bit lethargic, no doubt due to the absence of everyone's favorite bassist, but Frank supplied all the energy that the audience failed to give.

As the final notes of "The Ghost of You" rang out through the venue, Gerard thanked the crowd again for being so awesome, and Frank was off the stage before Bob had even set his drumsticks down. He practically ran face-first into Mikey, who was waiting in the wings, watching the show. No, watching Frank. Mikey tried to apologize for being in his way, but Frank just stepped around him like he was chewed up gum on the sidewalk.

Frank didn't stop to sign autographs with Ray, Mikey, Bob and Gee, and he didn't stop to thank Dewees, and he didn't stop at the venue bathroom to piss, which he really had to do, but instead walked straight from the stage to the bus. He climbed into his bunk, not stopping to shower or even change out of his sweat-soaked clothes. He was a little disgusted at that, and he knew it would only make his sheets and blanket smelly and gross, but he just wanted to be left alone until they got to the hotel.

Fuck! He forgot, it was a hotel night. Well, Bob and Dewees always shared a room, so he wasn't rooming with either of them. So he was either sharing a room with Toro, Gee, or Mikey, only one of which he was currently on good terms with. And of course, God just loved to spend his time thinking of new fun and creative ways to torment Frank, so he had a gut feeling he wasn't rooming with Ray tonight. He sighed.

This was gonna be a ridiculously awkward night.

He turned on his side to face the wall, jammed his headphones in his ears, and turned the volume up as loud as he could take it. He wanted absolutely no human contact until he had a room key slid into his hand.

He heard the door open and everyone walk onto the bus, because in all honesty, those fuckers were loud, and Toro laughed like a goddamn horse. He felt the rumble of the bus starting up, and heading for whichever hotel Brian had booked for that night. At one point, the laughter and voices had gotten significantly louder. Frank felt a warm breath in his neck; someone had opened the curtain.

"Mikes... Leave him alone. He's not feeling well."

Frank smiled. Even though he had fucking _unleashed_ on Gerard three hours earlier, Gerard still tried to cover for him. Of course, Mikey wasn't stupid, and he knew that Frank was avoiding him, but still. The thought was there. Everything got quieter again, so Mikey must have left. Frank sat with his eyes closed, feigning sleep for half of the four hour drive, and actually sleeping for the other half.


	8. Chapter 8

"Oh my god, Frank! So close, ah, Frank, _Frank_!" Mikey gasped Frank's name one more time, and Frank pulled off, focusing his mouth on instead kissing Mikey's thigh. Mikey just panted and writhed under him, so close to orgasm, but he knew Frank was gonna make him wait. Bastard.

"Bastard," he said out loud.

Frank giggled. "That's not very nice," he teased, licking up the vein on the underside of Mikey's cock. The blood was so close to the surface that it made his skin taste coppery.

Mikey gasped and spasmed again. "Fucker. Why'd you stop?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did you want me to keep going?" he batted his eyelashes up at Mikey, smiling coyly.

Mikey took notice of how obscenely beautiful Frank looked, lips red and slack, saliva and precome wetting them, making them sparkle in the low amount of light the moon gave them. Mikey moaned again. Apparently he was taking too much time to answer Frank, because he had stuck Mikey's tip back in his mouth, alternating between using his small, pointed tongue to circle the head, and running it up his slit.

Mikey struggled to keep from bucking up into Frank's mouth, because _Jesus. Why was he so good at sucking dick?_

Frank saw how Mikey was forcing his hips down, so he reached up for Mikey's hands, weaving them in his hair.

Mikey gasped, because if Frank was telling him what he thought he was telling him, then, holy fuck, that was hot. He thrust up once, experimentally. Because he wasn't sure that's what Frank had been saying, and if it wasn't, and Mikey did it anyway, that was not gonna feel good for the younger man. But Frank didn't move; he just let Mikey thrust into his mouth. Mikey groaned at the hot, wet slide of Frank's tight mouth, and the sudden shock of cold when Frank's lip ring touched the heated skin.

"I can- it's okay?" he asked, looking down at Frank, who Mikey had just that second knighted as the Unparalleled Queen of The Blowjobs.

Oh, yeah. He was _so_ calling him that on stage tomorrow.

Frank pulled off again, and Mikey whined at the loss of contact.

"Can you what? You do you want to do, baby?"

Mikey trembled, torn between embarrassment and the need to finish.

Frank placed a light kiss against the tip of Mikey's leaking cock. "Tell me what you want, Mikes. Come on, say it. What do you want?" he teased.

"I–I want... Can I... Fuck your mouth?" he whispered.

"I can't hear you, baby. What do you want?"

"You fucker! You know what I want!" he almost screamed. Frank just smiled. "I want to fuck your mouth, okay? I want to fuck your mouth!"

Frank looked up at Mikey, his facial expression made of complete lust and pride.

"Fuck, Mikes, that's so _hot_. Ask me nicely," he commanded licking more precome off Mikey's soft tip.

"Can I please fuck your mouth?"

"Yes, oh god! Yes, please!" he reached his other hand between his legs, jerking himself as Mikey tightened his grip on Frank's hair.

Mikey held Frank in place as he started thrusting into his mouth. He went fast, Frank's saliva dripping down his balls. He hit the back of Frank's throat a few times, and Frank gagged, but quickly opened wider to let Mikey in deeper. God, that was hot. The way Frank just yielded to him, submitted. Mikey probably could have asked to fuck Frank with a sparkly purple 12-inch studded dildo and he'd agree. Because Frank was only concerned with pleasing Mikey.

The thought that Frank was practically his sex slave was too much. He released his grip on Frank's short hair so he could pull off. He tried to warn Frank, but stuttered gasps were the only noises he could make, and it was too late anyway. He came hard, harder than he had ever come from a mouth before. He shot thick white down Frank's throat, and Frank kept sucking, wanting to milk everything he could out of Mikey, because the _taste!_ It all tasted like Mikey: his blood, his lips, his tears, his come.

Mikey looked so beautiful when he finally climaxed that Frank's hand sped up, and he came on his fingers, still sucking Mikey's softening cock. Before Frank could find something to wipe his hand on, Mikey grabbed his arm from between his legs and brought it to his mouth, licking every drop of spunk from every single finger, and Frank could come again from just watching that. Mikey's face contorted in pleasure, like it was the most amazing thing he had ever tasted. He then hauled Frank up to plant a wet, open mouthed kiss upon his spent lips, and Frank had to admit, he was tasty. He was in complete euphoria, he couldn't even register that someone was calling his name.

"Frank. Frank. Hey, Frankie." There was a light kiss pressed to his temple. "Frankie, wake up."

Frank's eyes shot open, and he was in his bunk, with someone whispering his name, trying to wake him up. A dream. Fuck, it was all a dream. He clamped his eyes shut in hopes of falling back asleep.

"Fuck you. I sentence you to burn forever in the fire pits of the hottest part of Hell for waking me up."

"Well, I'm sorry," Mikey said, and Frank's eyes opened again, this time less forcefully. "but I figured you'd be more comfortable sleeping in a bed. We're at the hotel. Everyone's at the front desk. Splash some water on your face, get your shit and come inside." And he left without another word.

Frank rolled over onto his back, and felt cold and sticky. He looked down. Great. The cherry on top of a perfect goddamn day was coming all over his favorite pants.

 _Fuckin'_ Mikey and his _fuckin'_ pretty lips and his _fuckin'_ delicious bodily secretions and his _fuckin'_ o-face. This was all his fault. Frank sighed, crawling out of his bunk to grab his bag.


	9. Chapter 9

Nobody noticed him when he walked inside, and sat down on one of three matching chairs in the lobby. They just continued their conversations.

Gerard and Ray were bullshitting about some new band one of them had discovered, Bob was repeatedly hitting the bell on the front desk, cracking up about it with Dewees, and Brian was talking to the manager, probably apologizing for Bob's utter dumbassness and promising to buy them a new bell.

 _Where's Mikey?_ Frank wanted to face-palm when he realized that he had walked right past him on his way to his chair. Mikey was sitting opposite him, texting on his Sidekick, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. Frank wanted to reach out and slide them back up. He may have even reached his hand out to do so, but he withdrew it before things between them could get any weirder.

The woman behind the counter scanned six white, plastic keys, and gave them to Brian. Frank noticed that she was very pretty. Young, maybe 19 or 20, with bright red hair and a tattoo on her wrist. Frank couldn't see of what, but it looked somewhat like a raven.

Brian thanked her, and she giggled. He must be working that Schechter charm, Frank thought.

Brian turned away from the counter, giving Gerard all six keys, and clapped him on the back.

"I'm out," he said to the group. "Have a nice night, sleep well, don't forget to wash behind your ears, wrap it before ya tap it, all that good stuff."

Frank, Gerard, Mikey, Bob and the girl behind the counter burst out laughing at the casual tone in which Brian warned them about safe sex. Ray just flushed with embarrassment, like he couldn't believe that Brian had brought up STDs in public. Sometimes Toro reminded Frank of someone's grandfather; he was kind of a prude.

Frank and Mikey sighed when they finished laughing, almost in unison. He looked at Mikey, and Mikey back at him, both for a moment completely forgetting what happened that morning. Then Mikey blushed and decided to take a sudden and extreme interest in the floor. Gerard handed Bob a key, and he and Dewees started toward the elevator. So Frank wasn't sharing with either Bob or Dewees. He sighed heavily, and saw Mikey throw a glance his way out of the corner of his eye.

Gerard gave one key to Ray, then started toward where Frank and Mikey were sitting. He handed the key to Frank.

"I would room with Mikey, but Ray's got a new band to show me, and the guitar bridge to a new song. You guys okay with sharing?" he asked, raising his eyebrows at Frank.

No, as a matter of fact, Frank was _not_ okay with sharing with Mikey, but he couldn't say that out loud, so he surrendered and took the key. Gerard moved to help Mikey out of the chair, pushing him gently toward the elevator. Frank hung back to grab his backpack. When he walked past Gerard, he grabbed his arm, pulled him flush against him, and whispered angrily in his ear, "Yes, I'm evil and vindictive and I did this on purpose. You fucked shit up, now this is your chance to fix it. You're fucking welcome." He pushed Frank away, _hard_. "Now _fucking fix it._ " he warned before joining Ray in a separate elevator.

Frank stepped into the elevator with Mikey. "What floor?" he asked, attempting to relieve the tension and awkwardness.

It worked a little, until Mikey replied with, "I don't know; you have the key."

 _And_ the awkwardness was back. Frank flipped the key in his hand; there was a small 4 on the back. He punched the button for four, and it lit up.

"Hey, Frank?" Mikey asked timidly.

Frank looked over to him, wanting to and at the same time, not wanting to talk about this. At least not sober. "Yeah?"

"Don't forget... Wrap it before ya tap it." Mikey mocked Brian, raising one eyebrow, and could no longer help himself. He fell against the wall in a fit of giggles, and Frank did, too. They leaned against each other, laughing, and finally the awkwardness had diminished.

"Brian is such a tool," Mikey observed.

"Agreed. Listen, about this afternoon..."

"Nope! No explanations, no apologies, no more weirdness. Live in the now, Frank. As far as we're concerned, the world begin three minutes ago. Deal?"

Frank looked up at Mikey. "Deal," he agreed, pulling him in for a hug. He squeezed, and Mikey squeezed back.


	10. Chapter 10

The room was a bit small, but had two pretty decent-sized beds, so Frank couldn't really complain. He threw his backpack on the floor and literally dove into the bed closest to the door. 

Mikey had a thing about sleeping next to the door. He was never comfortable with it. Frank thinks it has something to do with being afraid of burglars. Growing up in Jersey, that was entirely possible. 

Mikey smiled, because Frank knew him so well.

Frank made a blanket angel, untucking as much of the bedding as possible with as little movement as possible. Mikey smiled again. 

"Hey, are you planning on showering tonight?"

"Nope! I'm gonna sit here and wallow in my filth until tomorrow morning."

" _Ew_. Then I'm gonna go hop in there." He walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. 

"Hopefully not literally! You'll sprain something!" He heard Mikey laugh, and the shower spray start up.

Frank stated at the ceiling, feeling quite content. Everything was fine at the moment between Mikey and him. He sighed. He could get used to this feeling. But there was still something gnawing at the back of his mind. He couldn't get the taste of Mikey out of his mouth. His blood. The way his lips felt under Frank's own. He moaned again at the memory.

"Hey, Frankie?" 

Frank jumped at the sudden noise. Mikey was standing in the doorway, face contorted in pain, which worried Frank.

"Mikes? You okay?"

"Uh, yeah. Um... I, uh..." he exhaled. "I need your help with something."

Frank sat up, moving to the edge of the bed. "Sure, Mikes. What?"

Mikey retreated back into the bathroom and Frank followed. Mikey turned to face him, and Frank noticed that his belt was off and his pants were unbuttoned and unzipped. "What do you need?"

Mikey blushed, his face blazing with embarrassment. "Uhm... I can't..."

Frank set his hands on either of Mikey's shoulders. "Mikey. You know you can ask me anything. What do you need?"

Mikey looked at the floor, whispering, "I need help... Taking off my clothes."

Frank's cock twitched at the thought of getting Mikey naked, even if it was just so he could shower.

"Sure, Mikey. Here," he said, reaching for his shirt, "Lift up." 

Mikey lifted his arms as high as he could, which wasn't much, but Frank still had to stand on his tiptoes to pull the shirt off. Mikey groaned when he dropped his arms. Frank gently spun him around so he could take the large bandage off the wound. They both hissed; Mikey from the pain of the medical tape pulling at his skin and scabs, and Frank at the area covered in bruises and dried blood. It looked it like hurt, but Frank pushed that out of his mind, turning Mikey back around. He hooked his hands in the top of Mikey's jeans, and pulled them down.

"Hey, I got a great idea! Let's buy _tighter_ pants!"

"Shut up, Frankie. You know damn well that your pants are just as tight as mine are."

"Yeah, but I'm the only one taking my pants off. It's a lot harder taking off someone _else's_ skin-tight jeans.

"Bitch, bitch, bitch..." Mikey replied. Those was the only words he could form, because he was a little drunk with the fact that Frank's bare hands were on his thighs, taking off his pants.

Frank pooled them around his ankles, then gave Mikey a solid shoulder to lean on as he kicked them off. Frank shuddered. The only thing left was Mikey's underwear. They were tight on him, clearly outlining the shape of Mikey's rather large dick. For a skinny kid, he was hung like a horse. Frank bit his tongue to keep from giggling, and was instantly overwhelmed with the taste of blood.

Fuck. The last thing he needed right now was to get hard because of his own blood while undressing Mikey. No number of stupid jokes could fix _that_ awkwardness. Frank did his best to keep his breathing level, and reached for the waistband of Mikey's boxer-briefs. He kept his eyes from Mikey's, uhm, endowment as he slid those, too to the floor. Mikey untangled himself from them, and stepped into the shower.

"Thank you, Frank. I don't think I could take another day without a shower," he called over the spray.

"Don't worry about it. You need anything else?"

"Not right now, but I'll holler if I do. You can go relax."

"Okay. Be careful."

"Always," Mikey called before Frank shut the door, collapsing on the bed. He smacked his lips together, trying to make the bloody taste last. His would do, but Mikey's tasted better. He sighed, laying back down, trying to keep Mikey, his blood, and the fact that he was naked four feet away out of his mind. He wasn't particularly successful.


	11. Chapter 11

"Hey, Frank. Frank," Mikey shook the younger man lightly. "Frank." 

He gave up, and finally started poking him in the side. He knew he was gonna catch hell for that, because Frank was really ticklish. 

And as predicted, Frank started giggling and swatting at Mikey's hand. 

"Knock it off, fucker," he laughed, eyes still closed. "What is your fascination with always waking me up? Don't you care about my health? Growing boys need sufficient sleep."

Mikey just laughed, covering for the fact that he had sat watching Frank sleep for about 20 minutes, because he was so pretty when he slept. It was the only time Mikey had ever seen Frank completely relaxed. He was always tense about something, even if it was just keeping his balance on something he wasn't supposed to be climbing on.

"So why the hell did you wake me up again?" he complained halfheartedly.

Mikey looked embarrassed again, and Frank thought there had to be a limit on how many times someone could blush in one day.

"What now, Mikes?"

Mikey smiled at the floor, and handed Frank his Sidekick. It was open to a text from Gerard.

_make sure u clean that thing. if u need to, ask frank 2 help. if he says no, hit him. ;)  
-g_

Mikey grinned sheepishly, taking the phone from Frank.

"I'm sorry. I tried to do it myself, but I couldn't. I hate being so dependent, but..."

Frank waved his hand. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. You're _such_ a nuisance, Mikes. It's _such_ a bother to help you in your handicapped state." He stood, stretching his limbs one by one. Mikey couldn't keep his eyes off the sparrows when Frank's shirt rode up. He wanted to taste them.

"Do you have something I can use?" 

"Yeah, there's peroxide, rags, gauze and tape in my bag."

Frank laughed, shaking his head. "Boy, Gerard covers all the bases, doesn't he?"

Mikey chuckled. "Been that way my whole life." He stood, and for the first time, Frank noticed what he was wearing, which was, well, nothing. He had only a towel draped loosely around his hips. 

Mikey had a girly figure; sharp, defined hip bones that jutted out from his flat stomach. The kid didn't have an ounce of fat on his body. He wasn't buff and muscled, but he his abs were defined and Frank couldn't help but think that Mikey was downright pretty.

He grabbed Mikey's bag off the floor, rummaging through it for the supplies he needed.

"So how do you want to do this?" Mikey asked him. You want me to sit, or–"

"Lay down," Frank ordered. "In the middle of the bed on your stomach."

Mikey obliged, laying down on the edge of the bed and scooting to the middle. Frank sat beside him, opening the peroxide and wetting the tip of a rag. 

The scabs were softened from the heat and the water, and most of them had peeled off, exposing raw, bloody flesh. Frank licked his lips, pressing the rag to one end of the cut. 

Mikey arched his back, wincing. Frank remembered that he had made that same noise in his dream, when he had his cock in Frank's mouth. 

_Really, brain? Bring that up now?_

Sometimes Frank felt like his mind's mission in life was to fuck shit up for Frank as often as possible. And today, it was working. Overtime.

"Sorry, Mikes. You okay?"

"Yeah, it just–" he groaned, "Kinda stings."

"Sorry."

"Yeah, you said that already. Just keep going. If you don't finish, Gerard will know."

"I'm gonna pretend that that sentence wasn't incredibly creepy," Frank replied with a grin, pressing the rag against the cut again.

Mikey laughed and then tensed up, but stayed silent. Frank was grateful, because he wasn't sure he could take much more of Mikey's whimpers without ravaging him. He just made the sexiest noises.

Frank cleaned most of the cut, stretching out over Mikey to get the other end.

"If you can't reach, you can, you know, sit on me."

Frank made a noise in his chest, but did what Mikey offered. He straddled him, one knee of either side of his ass, and just kneeled, trying to keep from digging his hard-on into him. 

He tried to clean the cut as fast as he could, but at the same time, he wanted to make sure it was clean. He covered the wound with clean gauze, taping it down to Mikey's skin. He looked at the rag, red with Mikey's blood, and he got a little harder. He was half-hard, and still trying to keep his boner off Mikey's ass.

He rubbed the gauze down, making sure it was secured against Mikey's soft skin. Frank moved to get off Mikey, but Mikey grabbed his leg, holding him in place, and completely ruining Frank's plan for not grinding into his ass. 

But Mikey didn't mind. It felt kinda good, knowing that Frank was aroused because of him. He smiled.

"Can I help you?" Frank asked sarcastically.

"Yeah, if you keep doing that."

Frank widened his eyes, glad that Mikey couldn't see him. Was Mikey asking Frank to keep grinding his dick into him?

"Keep doing _what_?"

"Rubbing," he said simply, sighing.

Frank sighed with relief. He wasn't gonna just not do what was asked of him, so he set the bottle and the rag to the side, and leaned forward, no longer caring about what he was digging into Mikey's where. He was just focusing on massaging his shoulders, where he knew Mikey carried all of his tension. 

Mikey moaned as Frank dug his fingers into his back, rubbing in small circles. _Oh, those moans!_

Frank got a little harder every time Mikey made another noise. Frank kept rubbing, and Mikey's moans kept getting louder and he started breathing heavily.

Mikey gasped, and shuddered under Frank, panting.

Frank's eyes widened in shock. Did Mikey just... Because of Frank massaging him? 

Mikey's head shot up, and he was red from his hairline to his shoulder blades.

"Frank, I– I'm sorry. You just kept rubbing and I wanted to... I could feel... I mean I know that we–"

"Mikey, relax. Come here." He rolled off Mikey, pulling back the blankets and allowing him to crawl under them, tucking him back in. "Give me the towel."

Mikey blushed an even darker shade of crimson, reaching under the covers and handing Frank the towel that was around his waist. 

Frank walked into the bathroom, balling the towel up, which was now wet with Mikey's come, and tossing it in the bathtub, leaving it for the maids.

When he walked back into the main room, Mikey was almost asleep, practically snoring already. Frank stripped down into his boxers, lying in his own bed. He shut off all the lights, turning to face the wall.

"Thank you. You're so good to me, even when my awkwardness fucks things up. I love you, Frank. I really do." 

Every inch of Frank's skin burned with the words Mikey said. He loved him? Really? He wanted believe it, but Mikey's voice was thick with recent orgasm and sleep. Everyone got a little discombobulated when they were about to fall asleep. Mikey probably had no idea what he was saying, and wouldn't remember it in the morning even if he did.

"I love you, too. Go to sleep."

And shortly after that, he heard Mikey's soft snores. Frank fell into unconsciousness listening to Mikey sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

Mikey still couldn't play a week later. He still couldn't put his bass on without nearly crumpling to the floor in pain.

So he stood on the edge of the stage, watching the 'show'. At least everyone thought he was watching the show. Nobody suspected that he was actually watching   
_Frank_.

 _Frank_ , who played every show like it was his last.

 _Frank_ , who did shit he knew he was probably gonna get hurt doing, just to excite the crowd.

 _Frank_ , who made sure that every kid in that audience had the best concert experience ever.

 _Frank_ , who, since that embarrassing night when he brought Mikey to orgasm with a massage (A freakin' _massage!_ ), had not once made   
Mikey feel weird about it.

 _Frank_ , who was beautiful in every fucking sense of the word.

 _Frank_ , who looked after and cared for Mikey like he was his kid brother, too.

 _Frank_ , who Mikey was steadily falling deeper and deeper in love with.

And it was _Frank_ , who was breaking Mikey's heart, day after day. Because loving someone that you know you can't have hurts more than a cut from a guitar string.

Even worse is loving someone that you know doesn't love you back.


	13. Chapter 13

As soon as Frank got the hotel room door open, Mikey shuffled through it, to the bed farthest from the door, and let himself fall face first onto it, stiff as a board.

Frank chuckled. "Tired, Mikes?"

" _Meeeeh_ ," he moaned, face still half-buried in the mattress, turned away from Frank. Frank laughed again, because that noise was beyond adorable. 

He moved to sit next to Mikey, and reached for his boots, unlacing them, pulling them off, and throwing them toward the door to join his own sneakers. Mikey didn't move to help, he just let Frank take his shoes off for him.

"I need a nap."

"Oh, yeah! Because sitting on your ass in the green room while Dewees does your job, that's _so_ exhausting. My ass bleeds for you, Michael, it truly does."

Mikey threw up the bird, waving it around in Frank's general direction, which only made him giggle.

He wiggled up to Mikey's head, carefully pushing his hair out of his face. 

"You'll be back on stage next Wednesday. Will you survive until then?"

"I'm not sure. We all know how accident-prone I am," he deadpanned.

"Are you trying to be sarcastic? Because–ahem–need I remind you, Mr. Way, that it was you that had the oh-so-inspired idea to bring the heater in the shower?"

" _Hey!_ That was most amazing shower I've ever had!"

"Also the most dangerous."

"Whatever," Mikey dismissed, waving his hand.

Frank sighed, and spoke to himself, "You know you've won when the other party says 'Whatever' or 'Shut up'."

"Yeah. Speaking of," he turned his head to look at Frank, "Shut up. I'm trying to sleep."

Frank chuckled silently. 

A moment later, Mikey said, "Hey, Frank?"

"What?" he asked warily.

"Do you love me?" Mikey asked.

Frank swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to keep his voice steady. This could mean more than one thing, but he knew how Mikey meant it; like an _"If you loved me, you'd do what I'm about to ask you to do."_ He pulled that shit on Gee all the time. He answered with, " _Why_?"

"Because... Will you give me a massage?" he asked like nothing weird had happened last week.

Frank felt his face heat up. He coughed. "Um, are you sure? You, uh, you... Remember what happened last time."

Mikey chuckled, and looked at Frank flirtatiously, no awkwardness present in his face at all, which was weird, because Mikey was usually awkwardness personified.  
"I'll behave this time. I promise."

_Oh._

_Holy._

_Jesus_

Mikey needed to not look at Frank like that, because _holy shit_ , he was sexy. He probably knew it, too.

_Tease._

Frank stood and helped Mikey up. "Take your hoodie off." Mikey obliged, and Frank shed his own outerwear. Thank god Mikey had the flexibility to change by himself now, because Frank had to piss like a racehorse.

"I'll be back in a second," he told Mikey, walking into the bathroom to pee and change his pants. He shucked off his tight blue jeans, and replaced them with black and green basketball shorts.

He washed his hands, opened the door, and gasped. 

Mikey had taken off his sweatshirt. And his t-shirt. And like Frank, had replaced his tight jeans, but switched them with a pair of fleece pajama pants. And he was lying on his back in the middle of the bed. His stomach sunk in between his hip bones because of how thin the kid was. He was such a beautiful shade of ivory. 

Frank gasped again when he noticed just how dark Mikey's veins were. The ones in his wrists, neck and chest stood out in almost comical contrast to his pale skin. Like they had darkened themselves on purpose just to taunt Frank. 

He couldn't get over how beautiful Mikey looked in the moonlight. They hadn't turned any lights on when they came in, so the only illumination was from the shiny silver moon. It almost made Mikey glow iridescent. 

"I'm waiting!" Mikey called pompously. That was Frank's cue to act normal.

"Yes, master," Frank replied sarcastically, hopping on the bed, and half on Mikey. He was so soft, with skin like silk.

And that was when Frank cursed himself internally for taking off his jeans. They may have been tight, but they physically concealed a hard-on a lot better than gym shorts did. And with the direction this night was already headed, he'd probably need all the protection he could get.

"So, since when did I officially become your bitch?" Frank asked, poking Mikey's bony ribs.

"It's been a while, you just haven't gotten the memo yet."

"There's a memo?"

"Oh, yeah," Mikey nodded. "Everyone else got one. I think someone even sent one to Schechter. It read, and I quote, _'Mister Frank Anthony Thomas Iero Jr. has officially become the irrevocable bitch of Sir Michael James Fuckin' Way. Therefore everyone else (and that means you, Gee) must keep their hands to themselves, and off of Mister Iero. Violators will be tied up and forced to listen to the Jonas Brothers.'_ "

Frank hissed. "Ouch."

" _'Furthermore, any and all sex noises coming from the bunks of either party shall not be recognized by any other than the two parties involved, because they're some pretty kinky bastards, and don't require constant reminders of the fact. That is all. Dictated but not read.'_ "

Frank just looked at Mikey, one eyebrow raised in a questioning look. Mikey stared back like that whole spiel was totally normal. Which, in the Wonderful World of My Chem, it kinda was.

"Very nicely worded. So let me get this straight; not only am I your bitch, but your sex toy?"

Mikey hitched half of his pretty mouth in a smile. "Yeah, pretty much. 'Bitch' and 'Sex Toy' kinda go hand-in-hand."

"Huh. I'm not sure how I feel about that."

"Oh, please! You wish I used you as a sex toy."

Frank gasped out loud. "Am I that transparent? Fuck me, Mikey! Please! I _need_ you!" he over dramatized, hoping to keep Mikey from realizing how utterly factual that statement was. "You're a sex god," he said, all emotion drained from his voice.

Mikey shoved him. "You're an ass, Frankie."

"And you're objectifying."

"Enough with the big words!" he complained, flipping over onto his stomach. He jerked a thumb at his back. "Rub," he commanded.

Frank laughed, and climbed onto Mikey, settling into the dip in the small of his back. He started low, just kneading the pads of his fingers into the smooth flesh on Mikey's back, up and down and back up again.

Mikey promised to behave. And damned if he wasn't trying his best to. But as well-trained as his body was, it wasn't trained well enough for Frank. Years of playing guitar certainly helped, because Frank's fingers did things that shouldn't have been allowed. They were calloused, and at the same time, fleshy and soft. They rubbed hard, aggressively rubbing circles in Mikey's skin on the way up, then ghosted lightly, almost tickling him on the way back down. 

It reminded Mikey of a cat playing. It'll bite your hand, then lick you with it's soft, scratchy tongue to make sure you're okay; to apologize. Mikey had to choke back a laugh when his brain made that analogy. 

He tried to focus on something else: the dull ache of his almost healed cut, the cool of the air-conditioned breeze hitting his flushed bare skin, the rather hideous pattern of the bedspread. 

But Frank sure knew how to use those fingers. Mikey gave up, and instead imagined those same tattooed fingers on other parts of his body. Closing firmly, but not tightly, around his throat. Dragging nails up the insides of his thighs. Wrapped around his hardened length, pumping swiftly and quickly, focused on making Mikey moan.

Frank's fingers stopped. Mikey realized, to his extreme chagrin, that he actually did moan. Out loud. After a second, Frank's fingers resumed their massaging, and Mikey was glad that he doesn't say anything. And that's when he noticed that Frank was making noises, too.

They weren't horribly obscene and inappropriate like Mikey's noises, just focused noises. Little grunts and groans that Frank always made when he was really into beating a video game or figuring out a guitar riff. Mikey was a bit curious as to why Frank was so intent, and then Frank twisted his fingers in a certain way.

Mikey arched his back away from Frank's hands moaning again, this time in an unsettling mix of pleasure and sheer pain.

_"Sweet Jesus, Frank!"_

"Are you okay?" he asked worriedly.

Mikey panted a bit. "Yeah. How the hell did you even find that? I didn't even know I had a knot."

"It's pretty big. Just running my hand down your back, I could feel it. I can stop if you want. That was a pretty animalistic noise. I don't wanna hurt you trying to get it out."

"No, you can keep going. It hurts, but at the same time, it feels good, and weirdly enough, it kinda tickles."

Frank laughed. "Trust me, Mikes, I know the feeling. You can't be as spider monkey-ly as I am without getting some insane kinks."

"Nice word, 'spider monkey-ly'. So you're gonna keep going?" he asked hopefully.

"If you want me to," Frank answered, working at the knot again.

Mikey's groans were all the answer he needed.


	14. Chapter 14

"Michael, I swear, if you don't calm the fuck down, I will take both of these drumsticks, _and_ Toro's guitar, and shove them _all_ down your skinny little throat. Chill the fuck out," Bob growled, low and dangerous, brandishing one of his drumsticks at Mikey like it was a sword rather than a carved stick of wood.

Mikey furrowed his brow, a confused look painted on his face. "May I ask what exactly I'm doing to annoy you?" 

"You've been fucking restless for the past 2 damn days. You haven't stopped moving at all. I bet poor Frank feels like a paint shaker!"

Frank dropped his comic book, eyes wide. "Who the hell decided to drag my ass into this argument? I'm just trying to get through The Incredible Hulk!"

Bob forgot Mikey as the subject of his pointed drumstick, and instead jabbed it in Frank's direction.

"Yeah, and I bet it's real hard to read while shaking like a Chihuahua that has to piss!"

"I've done it before; it doesn't impair my reading skills. Now, I am going to see my way out of this conversation, thank you very much, because nothing Mikey's doing is bothering me." He picked up his book again, and nestled his head further into Mikey's crotch.

He was stretched out on the couch, right over the rather large blood stain from Mikey, head in Mikey's lap, and his feet in Gerard's. Bob was right, though. Mikey had been jiggling his leg, and it was a bit hard to read, but Frank didn't mind.

"Kiss-ass," Bob barely whispered.

"You got a problem, Bryar?" Gerard suddenly piped up, turning cold eyes on Bob. As non-intimidating as Gee was on a regular basis, he could turn into The Ice Bitch pretty quickly if he really wanted to. Frank peeked over his comic book, trading Bruce Banner for The Ice Bitch.

Bob huffed, walking off the bus.

"He knows it's just because I'm excited, right? Five days and I'm back on stage!" Mikey started shaking again.

Gerard put a calming hand on his little brother's shoulder.

"Yeah, but until then, you _are_ shaking the whole bus."

Mikey's face fell in mock disappointment, and Frank snickered in the Hulk's face.

Mikey smacked Frank in the back of the head, then Gerard smacked Mikey.

~~~~

At their hotel the next night, Frank and Mikey were told that they were sharing again. But before the elevator doors could close, Gerard had intercepted Mikey.

"Sorry, Frankie, but I need your roommate for a while. I promise I'll give him back before midnight."

"Gee, it's 9 o'clock. What are you two gonna do for _three_ hours?"

"Shh, shh, shh, young Frankie. All will be revealed in due time," he explained cryptically, handing Mikey's bags to Frank and dragging Mikey by the wrist to the other elevator, where Toro was waiting, a grin plastered on his face.

Mikey had an incredibly wary and frightened look on his face, and as the elevator doors closed, he mouthed _"Help me"_ to Frank. Frank chuckled. 

As quirky and weird as Gee was, Frank knew he and Toro wouldn't hurt Mikey. So he rode the elevator up to the 6th floor alone, brought his and Mikey's bags in, and stretched out on the bed, waiting.

He slept for a while, showered, then gave up and turned on the obscenely large television.

He flipped through the channels, looking for something, anything not filled with blatant stupidity. So that ruled out the Jackass movies and Step-Brothers. 

It was stupid, because he knew he was alone, but he looked around to make sure that nobody saw him as he flipped on one of the nine channels in the Adult package (which Brian, being the giant smart-ass that he was, made sure that he _always_ ordered whenever the band had a hotel night). 

He read through the info on each film. Only one that sounded worthwhile. As unusual as it sounded, Frank preferred his porn with a plot as opposed to just mindless fucking and orgies. 

He sat, watching a young stereotypically 'hot' blonde (who Frank didn't find attractive at all. He thought she looked like a bitch) and someone who looked like Danny DeVito. Because _she_ would really be sleeping with _him_. He left it on for about 15 minutes, and was still not turned on. He punched in some random number on the remote, trying to get away from the girl with an orgasm as fake as her tits.

His eyes went wide at the screen filled with an authentically beautiful girl, bleeding from the neck. The girl had long, wavy dark hair, and giant dark eyes. She really was pretty. Even a gay man could see that.

Frank was always adamant about the fact that even straight people are able to recognize that a member of their sex is attractive. If a man was good-looking, even the most heterosexual man could see that. It was more clear with girls. They had no reservation about telling another girl she was hot.

The camera pulled out, showing that the girl was with a man. He smiled, fangs glistening. So it was a vampire movie. That explained the two puncture wounds on the girl's neck from which she was steadily bleeding.

As he watched the movie (which actually had no blatant stupidity) he felt himself growing harder at the sight of the blood dripping to the floor on-screen; it was so real.

He laughed at how hardcore porn made him feel nothing, while a vampire movie turned him on. 

He reached down to rub his half-hard dick, when a loud pounding on the door shriveled his arousal, nearly scared the piss out of him, and made him jump four feet in the air, all at the same time.

He got off the bed, turning off the TV as he stomped over to yank open the door. Whoever was pounding hadn't stopped.

_"What the fuck?"_ he yelled, throwing open the door and preparing to throw a punch at whatever dickwad wouldn't stop knocking.

But it was Gee and Mikey.

"What the hell is your guys' problem? It's like, almost midnight!"

"I told you I'd have him back before midnight. So, voila! Here–" Gerard hiccupped, "he is!"

Him and Mikey nearly collapsed in a fit of giggles.

Realization slowly dawned on Frank. Gerard was slurring his words, and he was supporting most of Mikey's weight.

_**"YOU'RE FUCKING DRUNK!"**_ Frank roared.

"Frank, dude, you gotta keep it down." Mikey leaned in to whisper, "It's like, almost midnight." He repeated Frank's words, barely keeping himself from laughing out loud in Frank's face.

Frank sucked in a huge breath and held it, biting his tongue to keep from yelling again. His tongue was bleeding from the force of his teeth, but he wasn't aroused this time, just pissed.

Mikey and Gerard wouldn't stop laughing, so Frank grabbed them both by their shirts, dragging them into the room and throwing them down on Mikey's bed. 

"Jesus, Frank! For someone so small, you got a lot of pent up strength!"

"Shut the fuck up, Gee! What the fuck is wrong with you idiots? Why the hell are you both plastered?"

"We, uh... Toro and I wrote a new song!" Gerard announced.

"That's why they'd been rooming together for the past month! They played it for me, Frankie, and it's beautiful. It's called 'Disavowed', and–"

"Dis _enchanted_ ," Gerard corrected.

"And it's so great! So we went to celebrate."

"Was Toro there?"

"No, he stayed home. You know he doesn't party."

Frank widened his eyes in anger. "You guys were 'partying'?" 

_'Partying'_ , their code word for popping pills.

"Just a little," Mikey whimpered, and he at least had the decency to look guilty.

Frank paced back and forth in the small space between the two beds, face reddened in anger. He slowly let out his breath, yanking the phone off the receiver. "What room are you and Toro in, Gee?"

"Three... Three-ninety... Four?" Gerard said, uncertainly.

"Fuck me." He called down to the front desk. "Hi. I'm sorry, can you tell me what room Raymond Toro is in, please?"

Gerard and Mikey giggled behind him. "Hehe... _Raymond_."

"255?" He looked sideways at Gerard, because, _really?_ 394 and 255 were ages away from each other.

"Thank you. Yes, if you wouldn't mind. Thank you. Yeah, Toro? Guess what? Your idiotic dumb-ass of a lead singer is currently in my room, drunk off his ass and higher than a kite with his idiotic dumb-ass of a little brother. Why would you let them– Yeah. I'm sorry. I know you wouldn't have let them go if you knew. Well, could you come get him, please? Thanks."

He set the phone down considerably softer than he picked it up, so Mikey figured either this was either the eye of the storm, or the storm was over. Frank looked at the pair of them, and Mikey knew the storm definitely was not over. He tensed, waiting for the rest. 

He was just celebrating. Well, Gee was celebrating. Mikey was trying to drink enough to push Frank out of his mind, even if for only a few hours. It was a bit uncomfortable when someone you love, who doesn't love you back won't leave your head.

Seconds later, there was a strong knock at the door. 

Toro was pissed, but he was more reserved about it. He apologized to Frank, promised to show him the song the next day, and brought Gerard back downstairs. 

Frank closed and locked the door, then turned back to leer at Mikey.

"I'm sorry, Frank. I wasn't trying to make you mad."

Frank walked to Mikey's bed, standing in front of him. "Mikey, don't worry. You made it home safely, and that's what's important. Are you ok?"

Mikey felt the love. The way Frank had exploded on him and Gerard earlier, like a concerned parent, coupled with how softly he was comforting him now. He knew Frankie loved him back.

He stood, looked at the younger man, leaned down, and kissed him.

Frank was shocked, but he leaned into the kiss, responding when he realized just how much he wanted this.

When Frank had kissed Mikey a few weeks earlier, it was sweet and innocent. Sweet and innocent were the last things on Mikey's mind right now.

He waited only a few seconds before he opened his mouth and swiped his tongue across Frank's bottom lip, toying with his lip ring. Frankie opened his mouth in response, moaning. 

That fired Mikey up. 

He wanted Frank. He had for so long. And tonight, he wanted every bit of Frank.

He made his tongue move faster, running it along the roof of Frank's mouth. Frank moaned again. Mikey moved closer, rubbing against him. Frank felt distinct hardness in Mikey's jeans, digging into his hip.

His lips left Mikey's, instead trailing licks, nips and kisses down his neck.

Mikey moaned, and gasped, reaching down to rub his hand against the bulge in the front of Frank's jeans. Frank groaned against Mikey's throat.

Mikey worked at the buckle of Frank's belt, getting it open, and unzipping his jeans. Just as he was about to slip his hand into Frank's boxers, he said, "You feel so good, Frankie."

Frank froze, and Mikey whimpered. Mikey was slurring his words, and he still smelled like liquor. Frank pushed him gently away, guiding him down onto the bed and squatted in front of him.

"What, Frank? What's wrong?"

He squatted so they were eye-level. "You're drunk," he whispered.

"I don't care," Mikey whispered back, pulling Frank in to kiss him again. 

Mikey's lips, they tasted like vodka and his blood. Frank let Mikey kiss him for a minute, then pulled away again.

"I care, Mikey. You're plastered off your ass right now. You're gonna regret this in the morning."

"No, I won't! I'll regret not doing this. Not sleeping with you. I've wanted it for so long, Frank. Just, please." He kissed him again. _"Please."_

"I wish I could believe you, Mikes. But you have no idea what you're saying. I don't want this."

_"Fuck you!"_ Mikey stood and pushed Frank, causing him to lose his balance and fall to the floor.

"Mikes... I didn't mean it like _that!_ "

"No! Fuck you, Frank! Making me wait for so long. I've loved you for _so_ long. For years. And when I finally say something, you just throw it back in my face like it's nothing!" His voice was wavering, he had wet trails down his face, and he was visibly shaking with sobs. 

Great. Now Frank felt like a complete jackass for questioning him. Frank reached out to hug him, but Mikey slapped his hands away.

"Don't touch me, don't you fucking touch me! How could you do that?" He sank back down onto the bed, hugging himself, trying to stop the shaking. 

"Mikey, I'm sorry. I didn't think you were serious."

"Fuck, Frank! I don't care how intoxicated I am, that's not something I would just throw out there in a drunken daze! You should know that!"

"Mikey, please..."

Mikey stood up. "Fuck you! I _hate_ you," he sobbed, walking to the bathroom.

"Mikey, I wasn't trying to hurt you," he almost yelled, trying to stop Mikey. "Mikey, _please!_ "

Mikey spun around, his face scrunched in anger. "Where the _fuck_ were you when I said please?" he spat at Frank, face still wet with tears.

Frank gasped, and Mikey walked into the bathroom, and slammed the door. He heard it lock, then Mikey sobbing hysterically.

Frank sank to the floor, leaning against the bathroom door. He just sat there, pissed at himself. Mikey was telling the truth. He really loved Frank. And now, not only was he embarrassed, but he thought Frank didn't love him back. What an ass Frank was. He started crying over how stupid he was. He just fucked things up royally. He could probably never fix this. 

He sat there, just listening to Mikey cry for a few hours, until Mikey quieted down. 

At around three in the morning, Frank crawled into bed, facing the wall, his back to the bathroom. Half an hour later, he heard Mikey open the bathroom door, and climb into his own bed. He was still sniffling.

When his alarm went off in the morning, he rolled over, wanting to apologize before he did anything else.

But the room was empty, the pillows were fluffed, and Mikey's bed was made. Mikey's bags were gone, and his room key was on the TV. 

Frank let the tears wash over him again, and cried for at least an hour before Toro walked in. He came to tell him that bus call was at noon, but he took one look at Frank, and knew something wasn't right. He sat on the edge of the bed, pulling Frank into his arms.

Toro rubbed his head and held him as he cried, repeating, "Shh, Frankie. You're okay. It'll all be okay."

Frank tried to believe him, wanted so badly to believe him. But something in his stomach told him that things could never go back to the way they were yesterday.

Frank only cried harder.


	15. Chapter 15

"You wanna tell me what happened?"

"I'm an _idiot_ , that's what happened."

"You wanna tell me what happened that I haven't already deduced from your less-than-jovial state?"

"Why do you use big words when you know I have no fucking idea what the hell is spewing from your mouth?"

"Sorry, Frankie." Ray wrapped his arms around Frank, who was leaning on him. The elevator ride seemed to take forever.

"It's not your fault."

"I know, but still... I don't like to see you this way," He sighed. "You're family, and it hurts."

Frank closed his eyes, and yet another tear slid down his face. He hurriedly wiped it away, while still trying to do so inconspicuously. He knew that Ray didn't care if he cried, especially knowing how upset he was. But he still wanted to just _finish_ already. He had cried for hours last night, and had been steadily crying since he had woken up three hours ago.

That's what made Ray so comforting. He was the manliest guy on the bus. He worked out every day, played sports, and Frank had never seen the man with a stick of eyeliner in his hands. And yet, he was so... Open. He never cared if anyone needed comforting. Toro was like everyone's father. He was always there if someone needed a guiding hand.

Frank sniffled. "I'm sorry, Ray." He stood up, no longer leaning on Ray. "This isn't your problem."

Ray pulled him back. "I know you can't handle this alone, and you know I'm happy to be your confidante whenever you need it. It's part of being family."

Frank hugged Ray with every bit of strength he had. "Thank you, Ray. Thank you."

They had a couple hours before bus call, so they walked a few blocks to get some Starbucks. As Ray opened the door, Frank inhaled as deeply as his smoker lungs could inhale. Coffee always made him feel better.

Ray and Frank walked in, and right into Bob.

"Hey, Bryar. What are you doing here?" Ray asked, genuinely surprised.

"I'm here for Gee and Mikes. I have _no idea_ what the fuck happened," he soaked his words with acid, glaring at Frank, "but they locked themselves in the lounge. They've been in there all morning. Gee only stuck his head out for all of about four seconds to ask me to run for coffee. Now, we all know I'm nobody's bitch, but Mikey, man," he shook his head slightly, "I've never seen that kid like that." He gave Frank a look of pure disgust and hate. _"What the fuck did you do to him?"_

Frank's lip quivered, on the edge of tears again, after he had stopped only about 20 minutes earlier. "Bob, I didn't–"

"Save it," he cut him off, pushing past him and out the door.

Frank sank into a chair, holding his head in his hands, trying to hold back sobs. He was pretty sure he wasn't hiding anything. Ray made sure he was okay, then stormed out the door to yell at Bob.

Frank didn't know how long he sat there, in a public Starbucks, crying before a girl walked over and set a large, steaming hot mocha in front of him. He jumped.

"Sorry, honey. I didn't mean to scare you," she said with a slight Chicago accent. "You looked like you could use this. On the house." She smiled at him, and Frank noticed that she was really pretty. She had short black and purple dreadlocks, a barbell through her eyebrow, and a whole sleeve of tattoos.

Frank sucked down about a third of the steaming cup in one go, and he felt marginally better. He still felt like shit, but at least he could think properly.

"Thanks. You have no idea how much this helps."

The girl motioned to the chair across from him. "May I?"

"Knock yourself out," he answered, downing more coffee.

She sat, crossing her legs. "I don't mean to pry, but... Are you okay?"

Frank exhaled heavily. "No. But I don't see that changing anytime soon, so I might as well get used to the pain."

She covered his hand lying on the table with her own. "May I ask what happened?"

He looked at her name tag. "Well, Madalyn, I made a complete ass of myself, pissed off almost everyone close to me, embarrassed the man I've been in love with for four years, and honestly," he stopped to wipe away another tear, "I don't know how to fix it." He laughed. "I don't think I can."

"I'm sorry. But you seem really upset. Maybe if you talked to him, just the two of you, he'd come around. Does he love you back?"

"I think he did. Now, I'm not so sure."

"Well, I know from experience that you don't just stop loving someone. He may not love you like he did yesterday, but if he loved you once, he loves you still. I know this is silly, cause I'm just a stranger, but I can tell that you were really in love with him. I think if he takes one look at you, he'll know how broken up you are. Because, no offense, but you look like _hell."_

Frank laughed. "Yeah, I know. Thanks for pointing that out."

"Sorry."

Surprisingly, Frank felt better. He knew that Gerard wasn't gonna let Mikey out of his sight for even three seconds, especially to talk to Frank, but the thought was comforting.

He actually smiled, for the first time all morning. "Thank you."

She stood. "I'm happy to help whenever I can. You've helped me, so it's only right that I return the favor. See you later, Frank," she said, walking away.

Frank smiled again. So she knew who he was, and still just listened to him, not yelling and freaking out over the fact. He stood, tipped the rest of his still scalding coffee into his mouth, and walked out the door.


	16. Chapter 16

"What the fuck is wrong with me? He doesn't love me." Mikey looked up at Gerard, tears glimmering in his giant eyes. "Gee, why doesn't he love me?"

"Shhh, Mikes. Calm down."

"Why did I do that? Why did I just throw myself out there?"

"Mikes, it's okay. You're gonna be okay," Gerard reassured him, scratching at his scalp. 

"It's fucking hurts, Gee. So bad. I feel like, like there's this huge hole in my chest. I feel broken. How could I have let this happen?"

"This happens to everyone, Mikes. You can't control who you fall in love with. When you love someone, you give them the ultimate power over you. You give them the power to break you. You didn't do it on purpose, but you gave Frank too much of that power."

"I wanna take it back. How can I take it back?"

"I'm sorry, Mikes, but you can't. The only thing you can do now is heal; get over it."

Mikey whimpered. "I don't wanna 'get over it'. I want him to love me. Why doesn't he love me?" Mikey buried his face in Gerard's shoulder.

"I don't know, Mikes. I really don't know."

~~~~

Of course, with Frank's luck, the one second that Gerard wasn't locked in the lounge was the second he shuffled onto the bus. He didn't see Gerard as he walked toward his bunk. He almost walked directly into him. When he looked up, he gasped.

Gerard's face was nothing but pure hate. He grabbed Frank by two handfuls of his shirt, and twirled around, slamming him against the wall with as much force as he could muster. Frank groaned, and seriously thought he'd broken, or at least fractured something.

"Gee, come on!"

" _Fuck_ you! What the fuck did you do? I told you to fix it!"

"I did fix it!"

Gerard tightened his grip on Frank. "And then you broke it again! You broke _him_ again! I have–" he let go of Frank, running his fingers through his hair in anger, then grabbed him again, "I have spent the last nine hours, picking up the pieces you broke, and trying to put them back together. I've never seen a man so broken." He inhaled a shuddering breath. "How could you hurt him like that?"

Frank's sadness had boiled over into blind rage. He pushed Gerard away from him, into another wall." **What the fuck did you expect me to do?** He was drunk! He was on at least three different uppers! How was I supposed to know he was being serious?"

"Like he would joke about that?"

"For your information, Gerard, last time I saw him _that_ fucked up, he told me he wanted to drive, yes, _drive_ , to Antarctica to ride the unicorns! And five minutes before you and Toro left, he was laughing hysterically over Ray's full name! He was fucked up! How can you blame me for thinking it was the pills talking?"

"Jesus, Frankie. Nine hours. He's been crying hysterically for nine motherfucking hours!"

"I don't know how to fix this!" Frank admitted with a sob.

"Well, all I can tell you," he pushed past Frank, walking back towards the lounge, "is that I'm not gonna let you fix it. It is now my personal mission to keep you as far away from him as possible. He's better off without you. No big brother should have to see a sibling like that. If it was up to me, I'd put on the first flight back to Jersey tonight. If it was up to me, you would never be near, look at, or speak to him again. If you weren't still officially a member of this band, which is only for a limited time if I have anything to do with it, I would beat the motherfucking shit out of you." And with that said, Gerard went back into the lounge, and Frank into his bunk.

Gerard looked at Mikey, and felt an intense pang of sadness pierce his heart. The kid had fallen asleep on the couch, but was still crying. Gerard didn't know you could cry in your sleep, and seeing it firsthand was the single most depressing thing he had ever witnessed.

~~~~

Frank was grateful that they didn't have a show that night, and instead just drove straight through to Milwaukee. He lay in his bunk, staring at the ceiling, just thinking.  
He thought about Mikey. His lips, his blood, how beautiful he was, how he broke Frank's heart, staring down at him with tears spilling over his lids.

How was he supposed to fix this?

~~~~

"Mikes, are you hungry?"

Mikey just shook his head, not even bothering to roll over and look at his brother. Gerard sighed, flopping down on the hotel bed next to Mikey.

"Mikes, it's been three days. You've reached a state of catatonia that frankly, scares the fucking hell out of me." He leaned in, kissing the top of Mikey's head softly. "I don't think he's gonna do anything, Mikes. Maybe it's for the best. I mean, even if he apologized, he hurt you so bad. Do you really think you want to forgive him?"

Mikey turned to glare at Gerard. "I love him, Gee. Of course I'd forgive him."

"And that's what scares me, Mikes! Love clouds your judgment. I don't want you to forgive him and then get burned again."

Mikey rolled back over.

"Fine. I'm gonna go get some food. You want anything?"

Mikey mumbled something into the bedspread that Gerard translated into a 'No'.

"Are you gonna be okay here alone for a few hours?"

He lifted his head so that Gerard could understand his words now. "I'm upset, Gee, not suicidal. Go eat, I'll be fine."

"I love you."

Mikey mumbled something back.

Gee reluctantly left the room, grabbing his key on the way out. He stepped onto the elevator, which he took all the way to the lobby.

"Hey, Gee!"

Gerard turned and saw Ray jogging to catch up to him. "Hey, Toro. What's up?"

"Where ya going?" he asked breathlessly.

"Get something to eat and some coffee. You wanna come?"

"Sure," Ray said, and quickly fell into step with Gerard.

"Where's Frank?" Gerard asked, not really caring.

"Wallowing in his own misery."

Gerard smiled internally.

Ray took out his phone, sent a quick text, then stuffed it back in his pocket. "So," he asked Gerard, "think there's any good Chinese places around here?"


	17. Chapter 17

Frank's phone buzzed on the nightstand, and he dove across the bed to grab it. He slid it open with so much force that he almost broke it.

_me n g are goin out to eat. NOW IS THE TIME 2 STRIKE! go get him, champ! ;) Good luck!_

It was from Ray. Everything had worked as planned; he and Gerard were gone, Mikey was alone, and Frank had a chance to talk to him, just the two of them.

He ran to the door and yanked it open, but it wouldn't open. He kept yanking, but it still wouldn't open. He kicked at the door, then looked up in desperation. He rolled his eyes at his own stupidity, and flipped open the lock.

Standing outside his door, he forced himself to stop and take one, two, three deep, calming breaths, then sprinted up to Mikey's, not stopping for the elevator, instead running up the stairwell.

His insufficient smoker's lungs gave out after three flights. He braced his hands on his knees, panting. "Jesus, Gee. Why don't you just get a penthouse next time?" he complained out loud.

He kept going up the stairs, a bit slower this time.

When he finally reached the floor of Mikey's and Gerard's room, he waited a second before knocking, instead pressing his ear to the door, listening.

There was soft crying.

Frank's hands were clammy, his knees were about to give out an any second, and his stomach was doing this weird churny, rumbley thing that it always did right before they played a new song onstage, one that they had never performed live before.

He reached up, knocking gently. Half of him hoped that Mikey wouldn't hear, and the other half was doing backflips.

He heard shuffling towards the door, and he tensed himself, waiting for the door to open and a fist to connect with his face or stomach.

For once in his life, he was happy that he was so short. Right now, it meant that even if Mikey looked out the peephole, he wouldn't see any of Frank.

Frank heard the door unlock, saw the handle twist, and he closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath, holding it.

Mikey opened the door slowly, almost all the way, then leaned his slight frame against it.

 _"What?"_ Mikey asked, his voice thick with annoyance.

Frank opened his eyes, and gasped. Mikey looked like he had just rolled out of bed; his hair was sticking up in 42 different directions, his clothes were wrinkled, and his shirt was riding up his stomach where it was pushed against the door. The salty lines down his cheeks were still wet. He was so beautiful.

_"Can I help you?"_

Frank shook his head, remembering that he was staring. "Hi."

Mikey waved dryly.

"Can I come in?"

Mikey abandoned the door, retreating into the room. Frank took that as a yes, so he followed him, shutting the door behind him.

Mikey spun on his foot, face right up against Frank's, spearmint-scented breath blowing through Frank's nostrils. "Why are you here, Frank?"

"Can't I visit with a friend?"

"Ha!" Mikey scoffed. "Friend? And don't know if you've had amnesia for the last four days, but we are _not_ friends!" He threw himself on one of the beds, stretching his limbs out in every direction, revealing large bits of milky flesh all over his body.

Frank sat on the edge of the bed across from him, and hung his head. "I'm sorry, Mikes."

Mikey scoffed again. "You're gonna need to do better than that, Frank," he answered, his voice heavy with sarcasm.

"I am so very sorry," he whispered to the floor.

Mikey just laughed.

Frank figured he was gonna throw all his chips on the table, and if he ended up jaded and rejected, at least he could tell himself that he had the balls to do it.

"I love you," he dropped his voice down so low that he could barely hear himself.

Mikey shot up like he'd been electrocuted. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, facing Frank. "What?" he whispered.

Frank shook his head softly, and Mikey saw a tear fall onto his leg.

He scooted closer to the edge of the bed, and settled his hand on Frank's knee, right over the wetness from his fallen tear.

"Frank, what?" Mikey noticed that he had started crying again.

Frank lifted his head, tears spilling down both his cheeks. "I fucking love you. So goddamn much. For years, god, years, I've been in love with you. Mikey, every single thing I do is done to please you. I love you more than I have ever loved anyone else, ever. You are the most important thing in my world. The other day, if I had known that you were serious, I would have never–" he sniffled, wringing his hands together. "I wish I could take it all back, because I hope you know, I would never hurt you, Mikes. I never meant to upset you. It hurts so bad. It hurts knowing what I did. I love you, Mikes. So goddamn much." He leaned forward, gently placing a hand on either side of Mikey's thin face. "Please, forgive me. I'm so sorry. Please, _please_ forgive me. I can't live without you," he whimpered.

Mikey's breath had been knocked from his lungs. Had Frank just admitted the exact thoughts running through Mikey's mind? Did Frank feel the same way he did? Frank's lips were quivering with sobs, and he had this look of utter despair and apology on his face. And Mikey knew.

He leaned forward, using his long, thin fingers to brush the cold wet off of Frank's face. Frank looked up at Mikey through his eyelashes, disbelief coloring his deep hazel eyes.

Mikey leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to a stray tear that both of them had managed to miss.

"Thank you, Frankie. Just, thank you."

Frank pushed forward, pressing his lips against Mikey's with the force to crush a diamond. It was cold, wet, salty, and Mikey's lips were still chapped, but Frank had never felt that peace before.

The first time they'd kissed, Frank had snuck it on Mikey.

The second time, it'd been fueled by drugs and alcohol.

When they say 'Third try's a charm', they're not kidding.

This was the best kiss either of them had ever had. It was the affirmation of what they both now knew; that either would trade their life for the other, that either would from then on make it their life's mission to ensure the other's happiness. That they were both without a doubt, feet to the edge, ready to plunge, no going back, head over heels in love with each other. And the kiss tasted like it.

It was slow, because they were really taking the time to be comfortable with each other.

It was heated, because they had both been waiting on this for years.

It was cautious, because Frank wanted Mikey to know that he wouldn't run this time.

It was hard, because Mikey wanted to show frank exactly how he felt.

So they sat, kissing. Each new kiss was better than the one before it.

They lost track of time, because they were still tangled in each other when Gerard and Ray walked in.

"Oh, god, you guys didn't fuck, did you?" Toro asked.

Frank and Mikey just laughed. They had talked about it, but they decided that they wanted to wait; that tonight was just for kissing.

"No. Don't worry; you're safe," Mikey said, a euphoric smile on his face.

Gerard looked warily at Frank.

"Gee, I'm sorry. But we're fine now." He twined his fingers in Mikey's. "I won't hurt him again. Are we okay?"

Gerard still didn't look 100% convinced, but his face lightened a bit. "Yeah. Until you fuck up again," he said with a teasing smile. Frank heard the tease, but he also heard the serious warning behind Gerard's words.

Toro locked eyes with Frank, and nodded.

"Gee, get your shit. I guess we're gonna be permanent roomies for a while," he said, slinging an arm around Gee's shoulder, and pulling him into a headlock.

Gerard laughed, trying to escape from the Man With The Plan's vice-like grip. It was pointless, and everyone knew it. Toro was like the fucking Iron Giant.

He dragged Gerard out of the room, stopping to grab his duffel bag on the way.

Frank leaned up to kiss the tip of Mikey's nose. "There are not words to describe how insanely happy I am right now."

Mikey snuggled against Frank, throwing a blanket over them. "That makes two of us, Frankie. That makes two of us."


	18. Chapter 18

Mikey was finally given the okay to play the next day, and the electricity in the air was tangible. Everyone was excited, even Bob was shaking. Frank had an overwhelming urge to point out that not a week ago, he yelled at Mikey for that exact same thing, but he decided against it. Both he and Mikey agreed that it was probably the best decision he'd ever made.

The venue's lights dimmed, and the crowd roared. Gerard sauntered onstage, followed by Toro and Bob. Frank held back to talk to Mikey. He tugged on his bass strap a little.

"How does it feel?"

Mikey beamed. "It feels fantastic! No pain at all!"

"You know, if it starts to hurt–"

"Frankie, I'm fine!" He gave him a swift kiss. "I love you. Now _go!_ "

He pushed Frank onto the stage, and into his position at stage right.

The lights turned back on, and Frank thought his eardrums were gonna burst. The kids must have felt it in the air that something special was happening tonight.

"HELLO, GREEN BAY! How are you sexy motherfuckers doing tonight?" Gerard screamed.

Good thing Frank didn't need his hearing.

"We have some bad news for you. You all probably know that James Dewees has been filling in on bass for the past few weeks. Well, he couldn't make it tonight."

The crowd booed and screamed.

"SO! This song is to welcome out our bassist. Hit it, boys!"

Bob, Toro and Frank all started in on 'Thank You For The Venom' and the crowd somehow forgot about their 'substitute' on bass. They went fucking nuts.

"Now let me introduce to you tonight... Your stand-in on bass... A fucking awesome kid..."

Gerard walked over to Frank, sticking the microphone in his face to introduce Mikey.

Frank called into the microphone, "MICHAEL... JAMES... FUCKIN'... WAY!"

If Frank thought the crowd screamed before, now they were _shrieking._

Mikey walked on stage, and every mouth in the venue pulled into a giant grin.

They all played fast and hard, Frank climbing drum kits and amps, grinding on Gee and Mikey, and rolling around on the ground like a happy little puppy.

At the hotel that night, Mikey and Frank ran straight up to their room, barely stopping to say good night to everyone else.

Their bodies were still tingling with excitement and they could think of only one way to get rid of it.

They barely separated to open the door, just falling through it, still kissing and running their hands through each other's hair.

They threw themselves onto the bed, occasionally shedding an article of clothing or two. Mikey leaned over Frank, both in nothing but their boxers, and traced his various tattoos with the very tips of his fingers, then with his tongue. Frank pulled Mikey up to kiss him, and moaned into his mouth.

"I have a confession to make," Mikey mouthed at his neck, and whispered against Frank's overheated skin. "Something I like about you."

Caught up in the heat of the moment, Frank answered with, "Me, too."

Mikey pulled back, smiling at Frank playfully. "Trade you secret for a secret?"

Frank couldn't resist Mikey's eyes, so he just nodded. Mikey leaned back down. "I love..." he paused a moment, drawing out the suspense, "your hands," he whispered into Frank's ear, biting on his earlobe. "Watching you play guitar, or video games. The way your fingers curl around the controller. It makes me so hard." He smashed his lips against Frank's. He bit down on Frank's bottom lip softly, muttering, "Your turn."

Frank froze, and Mikey pulled back. "What? Afraid to tell me?" he teased. "Don't be scared. I bet it'll be really sexy," he purred.

Frank just reddened.

"Frankie, just tell me. I don't want you to ever feel embarrassed. I want you to know that nothing you could ever say would make me think less of you. You know that, right?"

Frank nodded.

"So tell me, what's your secret?"

"Blood," he admitted, so low that he couldn't even hear it.

Mikey pressed a kiss to Frank's nipple. "Tell me, baby. What was that?"

"Blood," he whispered a little louder, so that Mikey could hear it.

Mikey pulled away a little. " _Blood?_ "

Frank nodded timidly, not making eye contact.

Mikey poked him in the chest. "What about it? What about it, Frankie?" He licked a stripe up Frank chest, and Frank moaned loudly. "Tell me, Frankie. What about blood turns you on?"

Frank was surprised at how Mikey was taking this, how he was going along.

"Um, just... _Blood_ ," he said haltingly, still embarrassed. He kept going when Mikey nodded. "I don't know, everything. The color, the way it feels on my fingertips, the smell, the," he gulped, "the _taste._ " He trailed his fingers over Mikey's arms, putting light pressure on the veins protruding out from the smooth skin. "The way your veins look when when you stretch. The way they feel under my hands."

The look on Mikey's face was hard to read. "Does everyone's blood turn you on, or just mine?"

"I've always been intrigued with it. Everyone's blood excites me to a degree, but yours," he took a deep breath, "Yours is like blood on steroids."

"Tell me more," Mikey whispered.

"I dream about it. I've jerked off to the idea of touching it, to the taste."

"You've _tasted_ it?"

"Just once. When you got that cut. I got a little on my hand, and I..."

Mikey pressed a hard kiss against Frank mouth, cutting off the rest of his sentence. "You came to the taste of my blood?"

Frank grinned sheepishly. "Yes."

" _Fuck_ , Frank! That's so fucking hot."

"I've always wanted to see more." He looked away because Mikey's eyes were too heavy with sex.

"Okay."

Frank jerked his head back to look at Mikey so fast that it cracked. _"What?"_ he panted.

Mikey smiled. "Okay. You can do it. Cut me open," he leaned in to suck a hickey into Frank throat, then said, " _Taste me._ "

Frank trembled with how turned on that made him. He made a pained moan like a gasp. "Fuck, Mikes, are you serious?"

Mikey just nodded.

Frank kissed him hard, flipping over so that Mikey was underneath him. "Are you sure? I don't wanna hurt you."

"It won't hurt. It's actually kinda turning me on. I want you to."

"I fucking love you," he said, scrambling off the bed and to his backpack. He opened a hidden pocket, and extracted a box cutter. He pulled out the blade, and set in on the bed, instead curling his fingers into the waistband of Mikey's boxer-briefs. "May I?"

Mikey smiled and nodded. Frank pulled his underwear off, stifling a gasp. Mikey's cock was huge, hard, and leaking. Frank felt his own get even harder, as if that was possible.

Frank crawled back up the bed, pausing momentarily to lightly kiss and lick the head of Mikey's dick, then continuing until they were face to face. "Are you sure you're sure?"

Mikey drew his tongue along Frank's lip. "Do it, baby. But first, I wanna see you. All of you."

Frank stood, slipping his underwear to the floor, placing his hands on his hips, putting himself on complete display.

Mikey bit his lip, reveling in how pretty Frank was. The way his ink blended with the rest of his skin, the way the tattoos curved over his stomach, arms and chest.

"So beautiful," he whispered. Frank smiled, crawling back onto the bed, grabbing his razor blade on the way.

"How do you wanna do this?"

Mikey thought for a minute. "Just do a few first. Lightly. If I'm still okay, you can go deeper." Frank's heart was pounding. Was he really gonna finally get his wish? He placed the tip of the blade lightly against the skin about an inch above Mikey's right hipbone, giving him an _if-you're-not-100%-sure-about-this-tell-me-now-before-i-maim-you_ look. Mikey drew in an anticipating breath that he hoped Frank hadn't noticed (which he did) and nodded. Frank tightened his grip on the razor blade, dragging parallel to the bone, pushing slightly.

Mikey didn't move, just moaned, low and slow. It didn't actually hurt. It stung a little, and he could feel the blood bloom up, but mostly, he could feel how much this turned on Frank. It was radiating off him in waves, and Mikey could feel his dick rubbing against his calf.

Frank moaned so loudly the bed shook. Mikey was bleeding so fast. It had pooled in the small hollow near the bone. He looked up at Mikey. "Is it okay? Can I–"

Mikey just pushed Frank's head down against his hip. Frank locked his lips around the small slice, sucking hard. He was probably giving Mikey a hickey, but the only coherent thoughts he could form were about how painfully hard he was, and how much Mikey's blood in his mouth turned him on. It was salty, but sweet and tangy and it tasted so much like Mikey that Frank hadn't even tried to hold back his orgasm, he just came the instant that first drop of blood touched his tongue, all over Mikey's leg.

_Whoops. Sorry,_ he thought, making a mental note to apologize out loud later.

Mikey moaned and writhed beneath him. He could feel the blood rushing out of the small cut. There was pressure, and behind it an overwhelming feeling of how much Frank was enjoying this.

"More," he gasped. "Fuck , Frankie, so good! More! I need more!"

Frank was more than happy to comply, making three more small cuts over Mikey's body; one across his thigh, on above his navel, and one in between a two of his ribs, each one deeper and longer than the last, the one on his rib cage reaching about 4 inches.

He sucked on one, letting the others drip down Mikey's body. Then he darted his tongue out, licking up the small trails of blood.

"Frank, Frank, I need it... Suck me, please."

Frank groaned and grudgingly took his lips off the cut above Mikey's navel, drawing his tongue along the cut on his ribs before wrapping his lips around Mikey's hard dick. Mikey was moaning constantly now, bucking up softly into Frank mouth.

Frank worked his hand and mouth at the same time, stroking and sucking. Each time he pulled back, he saw that Mikey's cock was red from the blood coating Frank mouth.

"Frank, I'm gonna come!"

Frank pulled off just enough to speak, still stroking and kissing Mikey's length. "Then come. Come for me, baby. I wanna see it. Fuck, you're so hot, Mikes. Come for me, please," he said, sucking Mikey's dick back into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the head a few times, dug it into the slit, and Mikey came, crying out in pleasure. Frank swallowed, pulling off only when Mikey had no more to give. "You taste so good, Mikey. Your blood, your come." He licked the rest of the drying blood and come off Mikey's dick, Mikey just whimpering beneath him.

"You're so good, Mikes."

"Fuck me. I want you to fuck me."

Frank climbed up the bed.

"I will, Mikes. But not tonight. Tonight, let's just relax."

Mikey laughed. "Easy for you to say, you're not the one that's on the verge of bleeding out."

Frank pushed his shoulder lightly. "They're not _that_ deep." He leaned in, teasing Mikey with a brush of his lips against his own. "Pussy," he breathed into Mikey's mouth.

He kissed Mikey.

It had the rusty taste of blood, and the bitter taste of come, and Mikey never wanted it to end, but Frank, caring too much about cleanliness, got up to fish around in his backpack, grabbing some bandages. He secured one along each cut, kissing the outside of the bandages as he went. He hopped back off the bed, stopping to admire his patchwork. He grabbed the bandages, and his box cutter. The blade was still wet with crimson. Frank brought it to his mouth, eyes locked on Mikey's, and teasingly, achingly slowly, licked the last drops of blood from both sides of the sharp blade.

Mikey moaned in arousal, half-hard again already. "Careful," he choked out.

Frank laughed, sheathing the razor, and dropping the contents of his hands back into his backpack.

When he returned to the bed, Mikey pulled Frank under the blanket, cuddling up against him.

"I love you.”

"I love you, too, Mikes. I'm so glad that we finally got through this. I don't know how much longer I could have kept up this charade. You are my world now."

Mikey snuggled into Frank's side, making contended noises.

Frank just smiled, rubbing Mikey's head. He set his ear against Mikey's chest, listening to his heartbeat. He fell asleep listening to the soft thudding of Mikey's heart, and the rush of his blood through his veins. The blood that Frank could taste in his mouth. The blood that he knew he'd be able to taste again.

As Gerard climbed into his bunk the next day, he heard the rustle of paper. He pulled a folded up note out from under him, reading through it, then re-reading it, because _what the fuck did he just read?_

He walked toward the kitchen area. "Uh, Frankie? Mikes?"

Frank looked up from his sitting position, Mikey was stretched across the couch, his head in Frank's lap.

"Yeah?" they said in unison.

"You wanna explain to me what the hell this is?" he said, handing the paper to Frank, who read the first line, then burst in hysterical laughter.

"Mikey, are you fucking serious?"

Mikey just smiled up at him.

A few seconds later, Brian walked on the bus, reading something on his phone. He looked at Gerard.

"Why do I have an email about 'Mister Frank Anthony Thomas Iero Jr.', 'Sir Michael James Fuckin' Way' and their sex noises?" he asked, his face showing complete and utter confusion.

This time, Mikey couldn't hold back his laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all liked this! I do have a sequel written and finished that I'll post... sometime. I really want to thank everyone who took the time to read this and leave feedback and kudos. You all rule!


End file.
